i'm not sick
by Cethulu
Summary: when all you have for company is an overbearing big little brother and four walls, something's going to break. This is based off an au, please please please read the author's note.


_to understand this fully, please please go to ask-stircrazy-sans .tumblr tagged/stircrazy-au/chrono to get the whole story. (obviously without the spaces)  
clover is a fucking genius and i am merely playing in her sandbox for a minute. The only thing here that is not hers or toby fox's is this continuation of the stage 3 reset you see before you._ _the usual stircrazy-sans warnings apply (and if you really insist on reading this without that, they are false imprisonment, abuse and drugging... but shame on you, go read her stuff) mostly in past mentions, and there's mild cursings and mental breakdown warning for said... enjoy :)_  
 _Ahhh... nice and clean_

* * *

"SANS, YOU'VE BEEN VERY WELL BEHAVED OVER THE LAST COUPLE OF DAYS, SO I THOUGHT I WOULD ASK IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO GO OUTSIDE."  
"ok."  
"IT WOULD ALSO BE POLITE OF YOU TO GO THANK EVERYONE FOR HELPING YOU TO GET BACK HOME. THEY WERE VERY CONCERNED."  
"ok."  
"GOOD! IT'S ALL SETTLED THEN, WE SHALL GO FOR A WALK LATER! I WISH YOU HADN'T FOUGHT SO HARD FROM THE START, THIS IS ALL I WANTED, SANS."  
"sorry."  
"THAT'S OK, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE ALREADY FORGIVEN YOU. JUST LET ME HELP KEEP YOU SAFE."  
"ok."

Papyrus was definitely content with the way things had turned out. Although it had been difficult, he was glad Sans had finally agreed to let him help. Things were much better now, he didn't even need to drug the food anymore. He was able to keep the medication on a schedule, just enough that Sans didn't risk getting himself all worked up again, and it was taken without argument. His brother was quieter now, sure, but that was also good! It meant that he was not telling all those bad jokes incessantly.. Or pulling pranks… or… no, it was okay because Sans was safe. This was the best way.

Sans had stayed glued to Papyrus' side when they went out, eyes glued to the path in front of where they were walking. Papyrus was glad that he was watching where he was going for a change. It's not long before a small crowd of people gather around, asking them concerned questions.

"HELLO EVERYBODY! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR KINDNESS, IT IS VERY TOUCHING THAT YOU ALL CARE SO MUCH ABOUT MY BROTHER AND I. HE WAS FEELING UP TO A WALK, SO I THOUGHT I WOULD HELP HIM GET SOME FRESH AIR. NYEH HEH HEH!"  
"You're such a good brother, Papyrus!" One of the bunnies croons. "Make sure you drop by and get some more pastries, okay? Whatever you two need to help him get better."  
"THANK YOU! THAT'S VERY KIND AND GENEROUS!"

The eyes on him and questions over his head don't bother Sans, except making him uncomfortable. He doesn't wanna be sick. They're trying to help. He looks at the people around him and his brother. These people are real, his brother is real, the phone people are… Weird. They'd started to scare him as well. Maybe they didn't want him to get better? He's sure some of them have their hearts in the right place, but half of them just seemed to want to mess with them. And everybody out here wouldn't think he was sick if he wasn't… Right?

"SANS? WHAT'S WRONG?" He hadn't noticed that he'd started trembling a little as he was trying to sort his thoughts out. Everybody's eyes are on him now and they feel heavy and itchy and- Papyrus picks him up, and he turns his face into him. "SORRY EVERYONE, IT'S TIME WE GO HOME. THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR ALL YOUR KINDNESS, FEEL FREE TO VISIT ANY TIME BUT I THINK OUTSIDE MIGHT HAVE BEEN TOO MUCH AFTER ALL. SEE YOU LATER!"

It's okay. It's okay _._ Papyrus is here to look after him. It's _okay.  
_ "COME ON, SANS. WE'RE HOME NOW." The older but smaller brother doesn't let go, doesn't stop shaking, and he feels his clothes getting damp. "PLEASE TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG. I CAN'T HELP YOU IF YOU DON'T."  
"pap… i don't… i don't wanna be sick."  
"I KNOW."  
"i wanna get better."  
"I ALSO KNOW THAT."  
"i think… i think you should have this." With shaking hands he pulls out the phone from his pocket and holds it up. Papyrus puts him down on the couch and takes the phone. "i think the phone people are making it worse."

There's a flutter of joy in Papyrus' soul. Keeping his brother safe just got easier without hundreds of people trying to tell him to leave. He'd _won_.

"IF THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT. YOU AREN'T A PRISONER HERE, SANS."  
"i… i know that… now. 'm sorry i made it so hard for you to look after me."  
"IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT."

Sans still flinches a little as he hugs him, but Papyrus knows that's just because he's still sick. He's going to get better.

As the weeks pass, Sans still doesn't speak much. But he's considerably calmer, and Papyrus starts reducing the benadryl and eventually stops it all together. All seems to go fairly well, Sans doesn't show any signs of getting back his rebellious streak. He's still refusing the phone, which doesn't bother Papyrus at all because all they would do is set back his progress, but he also doesn't like to go outside at all anymore. He disappears into his room when there's visitors to bring them get well gifts. Again, he finds that it's a little rude of his brother, but because he's such an understanding brother Papyrus doesn't tell him off for it. Sans is alive and no longer trying to escape out to where it's dangerous, so he doesn't see the point in forcing him to socialize if he doesn't want to. Sans sleeps a lot more than he used, even after he doesn't have the benadryl anymore, to but if he's sleeping he's not getting hurt so that's fine too.  
"SANS! I AM OFF TO WORK! BE GOOD WHILE I AM OUT, OKAY?"  
"...no." Sans is frowning, and Papyrus turns to look at his brother who'd come up behind him.  
"WH-WHAT?"  
"no, not… i mean no, don't go to work."  
"WHAT?! I HAVE TO!"  
"i… i don't feel good. i need you to stay home."  
"WELL, WE STILL HAVE SOME-"  
"no! I-i don't need it, i just… i need you to stay home."  
"SANS."  
"please?"  
"I CAN'T. MY ROYAL GUARD DUTIES ARE VERY IMPORTANT. IF YOU ARE FEELING BAD, YOU SHOULD TAKE YOUR MEDICATION. YOU KNOW THIS."  
"i'm…" he heaves a sigh. He should have known it wasn't going to work. But he also knows Papyrus would just brush off his worries because Pap wasn't the sick one. He'd been better but he wasn't better yet because Pap said so. Maybe the worries were lingering from the delusions. "sorry. go to work. i'm not actually feeling bad at all, i just… wanted… some company. house is quiet when you're not home. i'm just gonna go sleep. have a good day."

His smile doesn't reach his eyes, but Papyrus decides that it's better than no smile at all. It had been a long time since he'd seen a genuine smile, but it would happen one day. Like the jokes (as much as he hated them, he also missed them) he knew it would be a matter of time and they'd be back. Sans would be Sans again, but safe and happy about being safe. Papyrus debates giving him the meds anyway, but he decides to- "OKAY. HOW ABOUT THIS? I LEAVE THE MEDS OUT SO YOU CAN TAKE THEM IF YOU NEED THEM, BUT I LOCK THE DOOR. I KNOW YOU DON'T LIKE IT, BUT-"  
"ok." That's all he says, and he starts heading upstairs to his room without letting Papyrus finish. He doesn't come back out to say goodbye.

When the door clicks, he pushes his mattress out of the spot in the corner. He was getting better now the meds had stopped. He knew outside was dangerous for someone that's sick. He didn't wanna be sick, but he was. Now every time Papyrus went out, a fear gripped his soul. Papyrus had high HP and was really strong, but that didn't mean nothing would happen. And if something happened… the iciness of fear envelops him again. Without Pap he would just get sicker. He wouldn't survive. Not that he would without his brother anyway, he loved him too much. He pulls back the carpet by the corner with shaking fingers. No room. Had to make room. He pushes the mattress back further, and uses what strength he has to rip more of the carpet from the floor. If Papyrus knew about this, he would start medicating him again for sure. But this wasn't because he was sick, no, he was finally thinking clearly. It's just that this was a ritual that helped him stay calm while Papyrus was out.

He takes out the marker from his drawer.

 _dangerous dangerous dangerous dangerousdangerousdangerousdangerousdangerousdangerousdangerousdangerousdangerousdangerousdangerousdangerousdangerousdangerousdangerousdangerousdangerousdangerousdangerous_

He covers every inch of wood he can find in tight, scrawled letters, until the marker finally dies from the fact shaking hands press it so hard the tip splays in a massive splodge of ink. Shit. Piss and shit. He throws the thing in a fit of anxious frustration. He forces himself to breathe as he rocks back and forth on his knees, fingertips working at the wood like he's unconsciously trying to massage his fear out into it. It doesn't work, only the writing only the writing only the writing ever works because it's like he's pulling the word out of his skull and putting it down on the wood and trapping it there it's gettinghardto think anythingcoherentnymr

The lock clicks in the door and he snaps back to his senses. His fingers hurt, having worn houges in the floor. Shit. Paps. He throws the carpet back into place hastily and he moves to shove his mattress back into place, the spot easy to find as it's discoloured where it's not worn from being walked around on and age. His door opens before he gets the chance. He freezes where he's bent with his bed in hand.  
"uhh…"  
"OH! HAVE YOU BEEN TIDYING?"  
"uhhhhhhhhhhhhh…"  
"IT DOESN'T LOOK ANY TIDIER. UNLESS YOU'VE ONLY JUST STARTED! OF COURSE, HOW SILLY OF ME. DO YOU WANT SOME HELP?"  
"uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… i'm okay thanks?"  
"...YOU ARE UP TO SOMETHING."  
"no."  
"SANS."  
"...it's a surprise gift for you to say thanks but i didn't have all the stuff i needed and i was gonna ask you to get stuff next time you shopped and i don't want you to see it until it's finished."  
"OH! WELL, THAT'S VERY SWEET OF YOU, BROTHER! IF YOU MAKE A LIST, I WILL GET YOU WHATEVER YOU NEED!"  
"'k. go away now please so i can finish hiding it."  
"OF COURSE!"

Shit. Now he had to try and think of something to make. He pushes his mattress back and collapses on it, heaving a sigh. Damn.

He has a stroke of genius on the gift. All he asks for is markers. As many markers as Papyrus can get, preferably, the kind that don't budge. He's got a few large multi-coloured packs, and he stows them safely in the drawer. He takes his bathroom mirror off of the wall while papyrus is at work the next day, and writes in multi-coloured lettering "best brother ever" on the frame, and calls it good. Then he goes back to writing. Papyrus is delighted by the gift, and Sans thinks that he's in the clear.

"YOUR ROOM NEEDS REDECORATING."  
 _oh god, paps, why?_ He can't see what it hides. "i like it."  
"THAT CARPET IS READY TO FALL TO PIECES. IT'S HANGING ON BY A CORNER. LITERALLY. AND NOW THE WALLPAPER HAS STARTED TO PEEL."  
"it's fine."  
"STICKING IT DOWN WITH GLUE DOESN'T MAKE IT FINE. I'M SURE I CAN GET THE SAME COLOURS IF THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE WORRIED ABOUT."  
"i don't want to change it."  
"AND JUST LIKE THAT SHOWER, YOU HAVEN'T GOT A CHOICE. YOU JUST DON'T WANT TO DO THE WORK, LAZYBONES!"  
Peeling off the wallpaper had been a mistake. He knew that as soon as he'd done it. He hadn't been able to stop, he was out of floor and the fear only got worse every time Papyrus went out. And now he was out of time; he'd known this was coming the moment he'd tried to stick it back down. Tremors run through his body.

Pap would think he was sick again. He would be drugged again. He didn't want it. He was ok, he just knew better now. He just needed a way to cope.

"SANS?"

"'m not still sick. don't get the meds. i promise i'm not sick." He couldn't control himself, too many anxieties that had been building up in him, missed or willfully ignored (he's not sure) by his brother finally stacked up taller than his head and he crumples to his knees, hands clutching at the side of his skull, pressing on the temple. Papyrus moves instantly, trying to prise them away and calm him down. He doesn't flinch at his brother's touch. He doesn't hear the words that he says. He just keeps telling him over and over, hoping that he'll listen. "i'm not still sick. i'm scared. i don't need the meds again. i've been good. i'm not still sick. i'm scared. i don't need the meds again. i've been good. i'm not still sick. i'm scared. i don't need the meds again. i've been good."

Papyrus takes a minute to just stare at Sans, feeling really sad. This was… new. He puts two and two together.

"I'M GOING TO GO SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO THE BEDROOM. STAY HERE. THIS HAD BETTER NOT BE LIKE THE LAST TIME!"  
He lets go of Sans' hands, but his brother doesn't move off of his spot save for curling in on himself and rocking back and forth on his pelvis, eyes straight forward and wide, unfocused and unblinking.  
Papyrus peels back one slightly lifted piece of wallpaper. From the highest point Sans could reach on tiptoes to the floor, the wall was covered in the same four words, written scrawled and tiny but in neat rows to fit as much in as possible.  
 _dangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsick  
_ He peels back another and another, until he finds all of them that had been written so far. He lifts the carpet after carefully removing things from the room. The corner where the mattress was was just the one word and he was able to see where this had apparently started to get worse by the addition of the extra words, first just the 'outside', then near his feet where the writing got smaller the addition of 'not sick'. The words mocked him for not noticing before.  
 _dangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsick  
dangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsick  
dangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsick  
dangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsick  
dangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsickdangerousoutsidenotsick  
_Gouges in the wood by inky splotches marked the floor. He winced as he thought of all the times Sans had 'knocked' his fingers, making them sore for him to do anything with them. He thinks about when Sans had asked him not to go to work a while ago. Was this and that related?

Tears streamed down his face. Sans wanted to write. He didn't want the meds. He just wanted to write and he'd be okay. Papyrus would see he was okay. The carpet burns his fingertips as he rocks. Wood was much nicer. It took a lot longer for it to hurt. He can't do that down here. So he needs to write. He hasn't got a pen. His eyes dart around. He doesn't need a marker, he's got something else that'll work.

The crashing sound from downstairs snaps Papyrus out of his stunned stillness, and he immediately runs down to his brother. He's frozen in his tracks as Sans lifts a hand to turn him blue and hold him in place, digging at the lounge walls with a knife. It's nowhere as small or neat as the bedroom, limited by the capability of the knife.

 _notsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsick_

"SANS? PUT ME DOWN SO I CAN HELP YOU."  
 _notsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsick  
_ "i don't need the meds again"  
 _notsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsick  
_ "YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN!"  
 _notsicknotsick  
_ "i don't need the meds again"  
 _notsicknotsicknotsicknotsick  
_ "WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS."  
 _notsicknotsicknotsick  
_ "i don't need the meds again."  
 _notsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsicknotsick_

"...I WANT TO GIVE YOU SOMETHING... AND IT'S NOT THE MEDS…"

The knife pauses.

The magic is lifted off his soul so he can move, but he can see the hair trigger that Sans is on. He pulls out the modified phone that he'd kept hold of, and throws it to Sans who manages to catch it. Just. He had kept it charged, mostly out of habit, and now he was actually glad he had. He stands still, hoping that Sans won't just put it aside.

As he types, his pupils constantly flick to Pap to make sure he doesn't move to get the meds. These people were right. He was never sick. He wonders what they'll say. He thinks they'll be happy that he's not sick.

'uh, long time no see. you guys were right. i'm not sick, isn't that good news?'

 _[Sans is open for questions]_


End file.
